Slow Talkin' Texan

“Thanks for asking.”

“You bet,” Porter said.

Ellen noticed how cleverly her sister had sidestepped the question. She swallowed a sigh, wishing Meg would confide in her, unable to squelch the feeling that something was not quite right with Meg and her family.

“We’re outta here.”

Porter walked over and reached for Matthew’s diaper bag. “Much obliged for taking care of my kid.”

Later Ellen was sure it was just her imagination, but she could have sworn his eyes lingered on her a bit longer than necessary.

After he’d gone, silence filled the room, though not for long. The little girl’s parents came for her, but once they were gone and the sisters were finally by themselves, Meg laughed outright, pointing at the dark stain on Ellen’s blouse.

Ellen glared at her. “If you don’t put a lid on it, I just might strangle you.”

Meg laughed that much harder.

“Megan, I’m warning you!”

“All right, I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not, not in the least,” Ellen retorted, though she was having a hard time keeping a straight face herself.

“All I can say is, you got christened whether you wanted to or not.”

“Funny.”

“I thought so.”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing. And so, sister dear, I’m leaving.” Ellen’s tone was huffy as she made her way to the door, but not before grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder. She’d begun to smell herself and feared she was about to be sick to her stomach.

“Hey, hold your horses,” Meg cried.

Ellen stopped and swung around. “Why? I upheld my end of the bargain. I helped you out Now I’m going home.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious about Porter Wyman?”

“Should I be?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact you should.”

“why?”

“I figured that was obvious.”

“Well, you figured wrong.”

“God, sis, I know you’re divorced, but I didn’t think you were dead.”

Ellen counted to ten. “I hardly think my lack of curiosity about your friend qualifies me as a cadaver.”

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“Nope, sorry, I don’t.”

“Look, I know you’re not still carrying a torch for your ex.”

“Megan, what’s this all about? I’m tired. I stink. I want to go home. I want a bath.”

Meg laughed again. “You stink, huh?”

“Boy, you’re sure full of piss and vinegar today. Too bad Ralph’s not home to take some of that starch out of you.”

“We’re talking about you, not me.” Meg paused, grinning again. “I saw the way Porter looked at you.”

In spite of herself, Ellen flushed, then wished she could reach her own backside so she could kick it. “And just how was that?”

“You know.”

Ellen’s lips thinned. “No, I don’t know, and what’s more, I don’t care. For heaven’s sake, Meg, the man’s married with a baby. If he was looking at me, then he’s a cad.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong. He has every right to look at you, or any other woman he pleases. You see, he’s not married.”

Ellen frowned. “Then whose baby is that?”

“His.”

“His, but—” Ellen clamped her lips shut. This was a subject she wasn’t interested in pursuing, though Meg certainly was. Maybe if she indulged her, then she could go home and get that coveted bath.

“Right after Matt was born, Porter’s wife, Wanda, hauled ass.”

Ellen’s mouth flopped open. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t kid about something like that. The scandal stood this town on its ear.”

“What made her do such a thing?”

Meg lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Gossip had it she couldn’t handle motherhood or being tied down, which, in my book, translates into not wanting to be married.”

Ellen shook her head, trying to take it all in. “You never know what goes on behind closed doors. Maybe there were reasons why she didn’t want to stay married to him.”

Meg snorted. “I don’t believe that for a second. She was just trailer trash when they tied the knot, and even though she married money, she couldn’t break that trashy mold.”

“You mean he has money?”

“Tons.”

“Could’ve fooled me. He looked like he shops at the nearest Goodwill. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Ellen hastened to add, “if that’s the best you can do.”